


Knight to King's Bishop

by Isis_McGee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King! Sam - Freeform, F/M, Pre-smut, Torturer! Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_McGee/pseuds/Isis_McGee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can’t very well take down my right hand men just because they happen to have decided it was a competition."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight to King's Bishop

“They’re doing it again,” Ruby sighed as she walked into Sam’s bedroom. He didn’t raise his eyes from the book he had in his hands, but he pulled the sheet down next to him, letting her know she could (should) join him. “Is that the Necronomicon?”

“Yes. And I know. What do you want me to do about it, Ruby? I can’t very well take down my right hand men just because they happen to have decided it was a competition. Even if no one’s going to win.” Sam’d looked up and answered when he’d heard her unzipping her jeans. 

“I thought I was your right hand,” she pouted, slipping into the bed.

“You’re my consort. Dean will always be my right hand.” They were silent for a moment, Ruby trying not to fume and Sam ignoring the jealousy coming off her.

“How long before one of her troops tries to take him down for that, do you think?” She was smiling now, jealousy forgotten in gossip.

“They won’t. Ever.” He paused, flipped a page and closed it. He tossed the book onto the floor. She scoffed. “Forget the binding. Someone will get more, I’m sure. In fact, I’ll bet you that even you couldn’t persuade one of Abaddon’s to go after Dean. If you do, you can kill ‘em for me.”  
Ruby’s laugh and protest that it was a terrible bet was lost underneath a scream of rage and the sound of doors flying off the hinges throughout the expanse they were living in. 

Dean didn’t even acknowledge her display when she came in, blade still in hand at the throat of the soul in front of him. He’d been at it for hours, but within a second, his painstaking work was for nothing. She’d flung out a hand and all the skin Dean’d been peeling layer by layer was gone, flayed in a blink. He didn’t even get to turn around and demand an explanation.

“You’re calling attention to us,” Abaddon snarled, stalking toward Dean. “And you’re ruining my best lipsticks.”

“You think no one’s noticed the pattern of corpses with their green eyes torn out?” he shot back, standing his ground. “And besides, like the writing on the wall said, the devil made me do it.”

Her hand was at his throat, pushing his head back so he had to look down to see her. He batted at the hand and it disconnected from him but she swept a foot out and knocked him onto his knees. One hand found his hair and she yanked back, red nails digging into his skull. He hissed and brought his still bloody hands up, putting on a show of resistance before she caught them both somehow and pinned them against his chest. But, as more often than not, it was his turn to sit back and take it. 

“I’m going to let go of your hands and you’re going to put them behind your back and keep them there like a good little lackey, aren’t you, Dean?” 

He spit, hitting her boots in response. The hand that had been tangled into his short hair slapped him hard across the face, one nail catching him across the cheek, blood slowly beading up. It was back in his hair, pulling to expose the long column of his neck quickly. Abaddon leaned down and her tongue curled out to lick the scratch clean. 

Her other hand trailed down Dean’s torso until she found his crotch. She traced a finger down the line of his hard cock with a smirk. 

“Is that for me or were you enjoying your work that much?” She asked in a throaty whisper. When he didn’t answer, she cupped a hand around him and squeezed. His answer seemed to be a groan. She massaged him through his denim and went on. “What was that, baby?”

“Eat me,” he growled. Abaddon let go of him and straightened back up. Dean didn’t falter, but she didn’t turn around and leave like she had done before. Instead she smiled, eyes lighting up in a way that terrified every single demon in her garrison.

“No, sweetie,” Her boot was on Dean’s shoulder and she kicked, forcing him onto his back. He got his hands behind his head just soon enough to avoid cracking his skull on the concrete and she moved too fast for him to comprehend. Her knees pinned his arms down and she smirked down at him. Dean could smell her arousal and his mouth watered, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of hearing the moan that wanted to escape him. “That’s what you’re going to do.”


End file.
